


Entertainment

by extension_cord



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Manipulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sex, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extension_cord/pseuds/extension_cord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LSotW: Fortress Maximus cuts a deal with Overlord; like many things, the outcome just isn't quite favorable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firelight451](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=firelight451).



> This was a commission! So a few notes about that - it was requested that Fortress Maximus be a fan of pit fight holovids, especially the ones starring Overlord, and that as a result he has a bit of an unfortunate infatuation with the Phase-Sixer. This takes place shortly after the Predators start their siege of G-9, and I've included a panel from the comic for some frame of reference. 
> 
> Disclaimer — nothing recognizable belongs to me.
> 
> Enjoy! :B

* * *

It was a bitter irony, Fortress Maximus realized.

Until very recently — three days ago, to be precise, before Garrus-9 was bombarded by a shipload of Decepticons — he had been an avid consumer of pit fights. Old pit fight _holovids_ , anyway, because by the time Fortress Maximus first came online, the whole gladiator ring business had long since ended. Nevertheless, he'd watched them all: the big names, the small names, the victors, the losers, the nobodies who were offlined within seconds of the starting gun. The fights were a guilty pleasure, a hated pleasure, a dirty secret that he dared not divulge, not even to his few, closest friends.

And it was a burning, _bitter_ irony that standing in front of the warden now was the very same gladiator he'd watched so many times before: the only other fighter who had come close to besting Megatron in hand-to-hand combat, the one warrior that Fortress Maximus sometimes caught himself fantasizing about even though he _knew_ better.

Overlord grinned.

"Well, well. Here is the warden himself, separated in battle from the rest of his men, trapped while Garrus-9 burns."

Fortress Maximus glowered, attempting to hide his discomfort at the situation. No, he hadn't anticipated this happening. This wasn't _supposed_ to happen. Overlord had been absent for _years_ and he wasn't _supposed_ to reappear, and Fortress Maximus wasn't _supposed_ to find him even remotely attractive, _especially_ not now. The warden tried to push the thoughts aside, and instead leveled his gun at the rogue Decepticon. "Why're you here, Overlord? The Predators aren't your troops. You didn't arrive with them."

"Ah, you're right," Overlord said, smooth voice sending a chill down Fortress Maximus' spinal strut. "I did not arrive with them, and they aren't my troops — at least, not initially, they weren't." He circled the warden, his own ridiculously-large gun pointed right back. Somewhere nearby an explosion went off, rocking the crumbling foundation beneath their feet. "I'm here for entertainment. I seek to be entertained."

"And that — and that involves _killing my men?_ "

"Some of them, of course," Overlord replied. "The others will live. For now."

The distance between them was steadily closing, Fortress Maximus realized, and still their stalemate persisted: blasters drawn, fuel pumps thudding, engines growling, fans cycling. The Autobot found himself staring at Overlord, equally terrified and intrigued. It was a shameful conundrum. "For now," Fortress Maximus echoed, his thoughts suddenly quite distant. "What will it take for me to make you leave?"

Overlord smirked. "Quite a bit. Entertain me, my dear warden. If you succeed, perhaps I will grant your men freedom."

Fortress Maximus had heard enough about Overlord to know how terrible the Phase-Sixer could be; his words could never be trusted, and he was as disturbingly sadistic as he was ruthless, and _yet_ —

It was worth a shot. If there was a chance, no matter how laughably small, that his comrades could be saved from what was sure to be a protracted and painful end, he would take it. Fortress Maximus slowly lowered his gun, then let it clatter to the floor. There was no use in brandishing the weapon, anyway: Overlord easily outclassed him in strength and firepower, and to use it on the Phase-Sixer would be a deathwish. "How do you wish for me to entertain you?"

"Hmm." Overlord stalked nearer, the aim of his firearm relaxing with every step. "I can think of a few ways." And then suddenly he was close, uncomfortably close, and Fortress Maximus felt a shudder move through his frame. "Your electromagnetic field is giving you away, Fortress Maximus. Your fans are running high, not because you wish to gun me down, but because you find me _irresistible_. I can't imagine why."

The Autobot flinched. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, but why would I lie?" The rogue Decepticon circled Fortress Maximus, armor mere inches away, and the warden felt the charge of the other's energy field caressing his own. "I don't believe we've met before, in battle or otherwise. You're _young_."

"Warborn," Fortress Maximus grunted.

"And yet you seem to be more than familiar with me."

Finally the warden glanced away, his red optics settling on the floor. "I've watched old recordings of your pit fights. Holovids."

"Ah, that would be it," Overlord said. He swept closer still, lips twisted into an indulging smile. "And? What did you _think?_ "

"I thought —" Fortress Maximus considered his next words carefully. Praise was important, that much he knew. It was unlikely to get him far, but it would at least get him _some_ where. "I thought you were well-matched against Megatron himself. I was impressed."

The Phase-Sixer's smile widened. "Such flattery. And how exquisitely _depraved_ that an Autobot such as yourself would watch and even so much as _enjoy_ pit fights." Fortress Maximus felt hot ex-vents hitting his neck, felt a hand settle on his hip. "Entertain me, Autobot."

The warden's fans stuttered as he turned, slightly, to face Overlord. They were nearly the same height, the Decepticon only slightly taller. Their similarity in stature and bulk was almost comforting: without their weapons, it was almost possible that Fortress Maximus could hold his own. He glanced, briefly, to the gun still in Overlord's grasp. "Put it down."

"But of course." The firearm fell to the floor, and with a grinding _klak_ its presence was soon replaced by the turret guns in Overlord's torso. "Better?"

Fortress Maximus frowned. "Whatever." He pressed into the Phase-Sixer, hands moving past the newly-unlatched weaponry, large digits sliding up Overlord's waist to his broad chestplate. This was shameful. His men were out there getting killed — or worse — and here he was, willingly fulfilling one of his sick fantasies. A growl built in Fortress Maximus' throat, and then he _shoved_. Overlord stumbled backward, then smashed against the far wall.

"And here I was, afraid that wholesome Autobots didn't engage in such rough behavior. Very good, Fortress Maximus."

The twisted praise wound tightly around the warden's spark, filling him with — what _was_ it, even? Some sort of nauseating, vile _joy?_ Was he _happy_ to hear those words? _Proud?_ Coming from a Decepticon, least of all Overlord, he should have been _anything but_. With a snarl, Fortress Maximus lowered one shoulder and slammed into the Phase-Sixer, an action which brought forth another round of laughter. The Autobot pressed in closer, scowl inches from Overlord's taunting grin. "I'm a _prison warden_. Of fragging _course_ I have to be violent!"

"Then show me what you've got, warden."

Further encouragement was not necessary: his fans already screaming, Fortress Maximus seized Overlord by the forearm then threw him to the floor. The Phase-Sixer grunted as his armor rattled against the deck, but his lips were still twisted into that pleased smile, a smile that made Fortress Maximus' fuel tank churn. He descended upon the Decepticon, treading the very fine line between _fight and fuck_ , and slammed one knee and then the other between Overlord's spread legs. "I'm gonna entertain the _hell_ out of you, Overlord, and then you and the Predators are _leaving_ , got it?"

"Whatever you say."

Fortress Maximus surged forward to crush his lips against Overlord's; simultaneously he gripped the Decepticon's thighs, lifting those powerful legs up and over his shoulders, bracing the feet against his tank treads. Overlord's armor shifted beneath him, interface panels recessing to expose both the Phase-Sixer's port as well as his spike — which was, unsurprisingly, proportionate to the rest of his body. Fortress Maximus sneered, then let his own protective cover slide away. His equipment was already primed, a fact that both horrified the Autobot and, shamefully enough, aroused him even further. He grit his dentae then snapped his hips forward, spike plowing into the waiting port, cleaving through tight calipers that hugged along his length. He pulled out, then thrust in again, savagely; beneath him, Overlord's smile widened. 

"Do go on, Fortress Maximus." And then Overlord tugged the Autobot down into another kiss, a hand gripping either audial fin. The warden felt lips working over his, dentae biting and pulling, then felt a glossa push into his mouth, slick and hot. Fortress Maximus stifled a growl, then plowed forward again, his grip tightening on the Phase-Sixer's thighs. The wail of fans and squelch of lubricant between them made his spark spin faster, and he thrust again and again, all the while Overlord screwed his mouth with his tongue.

This was Fortress Maximus' shameful fantasy, coming to life at last: pounding into a Decepticon so powerful he challenged even Megatron's strength; feeling that hot clench along his spike and that glossa invading his mouth. The warden heard himself moan into the kiss, and internally he cringed. He had wanted to maintain the same sense of cool self-restraint that Overlord seemed to master so well, but now Fortress Maximus' body was revolting against him, and he moaned again, his fans kicking up another notch.

Overlord pulled away, face still a mask of absolute control even as the Autobot continued to slam into him. "I fail to be entertained. It's my turn." Dread shot through the Autobot's spark, but before he could protest or resist, the room spun, and he was suddenly on his back, pain radiating dully along his spinal strut. Overlord loomed over him, then hoisted one of the warden's legs up, hooking it around his waist. Fortress Maximus felt the Phase-Sixer's spike graze the inside of his thigh, and groaning with want, he allowed his port cover to retract. Overlord grinned. "Wise move, warden."

The tip of the Decepticon's spike nudged at Fortress Maximus' dripping port; slowly — and most surprising of all, _gently_ — Overlord eased himself inside. The Autobot felt the Phase-Sixer's length push through him, girth stretching his inner walls, dragging over overstimulated and hypersensitive nodes. Overlord pulled out, then pushed in again, further; Fortress Maximus bit back a growl as the base of the Decepticon's spike bumped against the rim of his port. Overlord was fully seated inside him, red optics narrowed, lips twisted into a satisfied smile.

"Please," Fortress Maximus managed to hiss.

The Phase-Sixer obliged. Wordlessly he withdrew, then thrust forward, and the warden did all he could not to moan with appreciation. Again Overlord's spike left his port, and again he slammed back in, the Decepticon's tempo steadily increasing, each thrust more forceful than the last. Fortress Maximus felt his head loll back against the floor, optics unfocused, mouth agape — yet still he fought to stay quiet, to keep himself in control, to not show Overlord _just how much he wanted this_. He was a _warden_ , after all, and he definitely _shouldn't_ like being fucked through the floor by a Decepticon, especially not _Overlord_ —

Overlord, apparently, had noticed the Autobot's internal struggle. "Holding your tongue, are we, Fortress Maximus?"

The warden bit his lower lip, then gasped as Overlord's plunging spike hit _something_ deep inside of him. Frantically, he tried to rationalize this rendezvous, tried to justify this thing that he simultaneously craved and hated. _For my men_ , Fortress Maximus reminded himself. _It's for my men._

"Don't hold back, warden. Be as loud as you'd like. There's still time for you to entertain me."

The words sparked something within him. As Overlord's thrusts turned to a brutal, punishing pace, Fortress Maximus heard noises start to leave his vocalizer: first grunts, every time the Phase-Sixer's spike hit him deep — and that became a moan, open and loud, a ragged, growling sound that mounted in volume and burned his throat. Fortress Maximus felt lubricant seep from his port, sliding warmly down his aft and puddling beneath him — Overlord gripped his thigh harder, enough to hurt — and still the Decepticon smiled smugly, even as his pace turned spasmodic and his thrusts became shallow and harsh.

Fortress Maximus' arms shot up from the floor, one hand grasping the Phase-Sixer's shoulder kibble, the other wrapping around his spike and pumping desperately, his own movements just as erratic as Overlord's. His spark gave a violent throb, and then the warden heard himself snarl as charge swept through his body, the calipers of his port cinching around Overlord's spike, his own spike jetting transfluid over himself and the Decepticon. Overlord pounded away, grin never leaving his lips, even as he thrust one final time and emptied into Fortress Maximus' still-quivering port.

Overlord left no time for niceties: he yanked himself free from the warden then stood, brushing stray droplets of transfluid from his abdominal plating, turret guns folding away. From the floor, Fortress Maximus watched, optics hooded and fans cycling loudly. "You'll leave, now, then."

"Hmm, about that." Overlord lifted an arm, then spoke into the small communicator that had unfolded from his wrist. "Stalker. Proceed with freeing the prisoners. Terminate any Autobot who resists you."

" _What?!_ " Fortress Maximus' sated arousal dissolved entirely, replaced by blinding fury. He climbed to his feet, legs unsteady beneath him. " _What?_ You _said_ —"

"I _said_ that if you entertained me, you and your men might be freed." Overlord's words were smooth and dangerous, and he swept closer, smile gone entirely, face void of any emotion. "Sadly for you and your comrades, you failed."

Rage pulsed through Fortress Maximus' circuitry. He made to attack the Phase-Sixer, made to tear into him and rip him to shreds, but his balance was still severely compromised. The warden swayed, his fuel tank pitched, and then a balled fist smashed into his face. Fortress Maximus cursed as static clouded his vision; he stumbled backward, then felt Overlord seize one of his tank treads. Like a ragdoll he was thrown across the room.

Overlord smirked. "As if there were any _other_ outcome…"

* * *

 

_fin._


End file.
